


But Fireworks Are Flowers From Heaven

by Puniyo



Series: The Chosen One [6]
Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: (perhaps not) first meeting, Direct Sequel, M/M, alternative universe, eliott is an artist, school carnivals and fireworks, screenplay format, tension and fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-06-10 19:36:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19513573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Puniyo/pseuds/Puniyo
Summary: Lucas promised Eliott they would watch the fireworks if they survived the haunted house. And promises are made to be honored.A direct sequel toGhosts Come from the Stars





	But Fireworks Are Flowers From Heaven

**Author's Note:**

> Hello dear all! I originally planned to only write about the haunted house but then fireworks came to my mind, and well, aren't fireworks pretty romantic? 
> 
> I hope you appreciate this little sequel and comments are always appreciated ;)

**1\. EXT. INTERSCHOOL CULTURAL FAIR. VENDREDI 21:21**

LUCAS is walking aimlessly around what it is considered to be the largest park in the city. The school fair is in this exact place every year but every iteration of the festival is as if it was the first one he attended. He knows the lake and the legend of the freshwater nymphs at its depths, and the position of the century-old trees but he finds himself looking at the crystalline surface of the pond to check for the existence of these fantastic creatures, and he suddenly forgets about the name of all the plants and bushes. He does remember though the name of the boy with the Atlantic eyes, ELIOTT, and the way his body swayed to the annoying rhythm of dubstep. They had entered the haunted house together, holding hands like good friends, because a palm on a palm is not something that only couples can do (though preferred), the darkness inside too frightening for him to even open his eyes but Eliott guided him through the maze and the riddles, except for the one that was guarded by DAPHNÉ because she ended up being the scariest of all the girls with her clumsiness with the card box scythe, and the taller male almost jumped on him for how relieved he was that the journey with the ghosts were ending.

It all had been brilliant, except for LE GANG pulling them apart at the exit of the house. Dragging Lucas away only to be precise since Eliott had disappeared at the sight of strangers and YANN was too busy checking whether there was a dark stain on his crotch, ARTHUR insisted in measuring his heart rate, and BASILE, well, Basile was being his usual self, praising his Daphné for being so beautiful that hell would not be able to accept her even if she was (mistakenly) thrown there.

Lucas keeps wandering through the different stalls, who knew that Paris had so many educational institutions, toffee popcorn arranged in lollipop canes, 3D wood sculptures made on the spot that were probably more difficult to assemble than the Eiffel Tower itself, a modest and traditional carnival ‘knock down the cans’ with rice bags. Lucas tries that one, two euros for three attempts, he fails the first one but the second time is a rowdy win. The little girl running the game offers him a beads bracelet, in the shape of five-petal flowers, and with a half moon charm.

GIRL #1

(finishing tying the ends around Lucas’ wrist)

It’s looks great on you! This is the special prize of the night and it’s a pair.

LUCAS

Someone else has the same one?

GIRL #1

(shaking her head)

Not the same. Well, the color yes, but he has the other half.

She winks at Lucas as a group arrives and prepares to aim for the huge tiger soft toy that one of the members wanted so much. There is an announcement on the overhead speakers that the fireworks will commence in less than thirty minutes and also for the booths to start tidying (answered with an even louder booing from all the students, including Lucas) and closing their flow of cash. In the rising commotion to find the best spots by the lake, he notices the almond and hazelnut hair, the unruly strands defying gravity even from where he stood, how Eliott seemed to be surrounded by some university students instead of the usual juniors, the undivided concentration he has on whatever he was painting with the pen in his grasp.

It is curiosity and not only that, Lucas just doesn’t know what to call the funny feeling he has on his gut, the faint electric jolts on his navel, that pushes him towards the boy who is afraid of ghosts, and he lines behind the very obnoxious girls now that he can hear their high-pitched voices and vexatious giggles.

GIRL #2

(seated in front of Eliott, arm extended)

Can you draw a heart here? (points to her elbow)

ELIOTT

(a drop of sweat slides down his temple)

Sure. Do you want a fancier one with an arrow or just the normal one? I can do a proper human organ too if you prefer that.

GIRL #3

(standing beside them, her high heels digging into the grassy soil)

Make it big. She always likes them king’s size.

GIRL #2

What is this supposed to mean!?

GIRL #3

Oh, shut up. It’s not like I’m lying.

Lucas wonders how Eliott has the patience to handle these immature remarks, not that the gang is better, maybe even worse when they have their game nights and after a few rounds of beer and joints, but tact is something they could praise themselves for (Basile is slowly scoring points in the wisdom department).

ELIOTT

(finishing the last strokes on the feathers of the arrow)

Anything else you would like?

GIRL #2

Your phone number inside the heart, please.

Eliott only smiles, a grin from ear to ear, and he carefully sketches three numbers, cursive, long tails and spirals – 112. If the girl was a pressure cooker, the steam would already be leaking from her open mouth, but her friends drag her away, all laughing and probably too drunk to be angry at the emergency landline.

Eliott sighs of relief, the back of his hand wiping the drop of sweat just now, accidentally smearing his left cheek, pink and rosy from the heat of the light directly shining on him, with a streak of glittery orange, just below the turquoise pool of his eyes. He crouches, bending to the box of paint tubes and collection of brushes, sorting out the colors and his tools by size and type of fiber, doing a sort of mental inventory, his lips quirking into different mute shapes.

Lucas doesn’t sit down but his shadow is enough for the artist to know that another ‘client’ has arrived.

ELIOTT

(still doing some mental allocation of where to put the remaining colors and how to arrange them)

What would you like to have? I’ll be with you in a second. As long it’s not Braque or Cézanne, I think I can make you something.

Lucas sits, amused by what he had just witnessed, but also by the way Eliott immerses in his task, fingertips brushing his lower lip in thought, front teeth biting into his thumb for a brief eureka moment, the little bounce of his knee to the current RADIO GA GA by QUEEN. It almost looks too hectic but perhaps that is just the way he is. Chaotically beautiful.

LUCAS

A ghost from the stars.

Eliott stops his movements immediately at the sound of that reply, his gaze shifting in such a quick and sharp head turn that it might have given him a motion strain. He is surprised, not expecting to see Lucas again and not this close. He smiles, a genuine one, so different from the one he was displaying for the girls just now.

ELIOTT

I’m afraid your friends have chased them away.

LUCAS

(tilting his head a little to the side)

Then how would you draw me?

There is a stare battle between their eyes, blue on blue, Lucas’ Pacific Ocean, deep and calm, locked on Eliott’s Atlantic, perhaps Antarctic one, raging, a few shards of ice thawing from thinking almost too much. It is Lucas who is startled, saliva swallowed harder than he was expecting, when Eliott leans forward, still a good distance between their faces but all his features are closer, crinkles on the bridge of his nose, chapped lips, stubble on his chin, and he touches Lucas’ fringe, that one strand of hair that must be poking out , the one rebel in the whole batch.

ELIOTT

(returning to his original seating posture)

Your hand.

LUCAS

W-what?

ELIOTT

(suppressing a chuckle)

Your hand, Lucas. Unless you want me to draw somewhere else?

Lucas would slap himself right now if that didn’t look idiotic and absurd in a fair full of students from all over Paris and beyond. He extends both arms, hands facing up, palms slightly damp from being clenched without him being aware of such. Eliott’s index finger traces the lines on them, gently and gingerly, calloused skin on cotton one, exploring, remembering how he had held them in the haunted house, and he halts at the inside of the wrist, on top of the purplish vein, nail replaced by the tip of a very thin brush.

Lucas hopes that the taller boy can’t feel the sudden increase of his heartbeat, the erratic pulse elicited by the strokes. It is ticklish too and Lucas blames that for his edginess. He flinches occasionally, not because the ink is cold or the horse mane bristles are prickly, but the way Eliott steals one more caress on his knuckles, on the patch of skin just before reaching his elbow. And Eliott’s hands are trembling too, immersed on his creation yes, but all his touches are tentative, never too far, polite, too polite perhaps, lingering just enough for a spark, not a fire.

ELIOTT

(slightly tired)

There. (He stretches both arms upwards) I bet it’s your spirit animal.

It is a hedgehog, a small one borderline tiny, spines withdrawn not threatened, holding a star to its chest. He laughs at it, pretending to be shocked and provoked, but Lucas notices the bracelet on Eliott’s wrist, the beads indeed stars that matches with the color of the blot on his cheek, a half moon charm in it.

The other half to Lucas’.

ELIOTT (CONT’D)

Don’t you like it?

LUCAS

Why-

IDRISS

(interrupting, both hands on Eliott’s shoulders)

C’mon Romeo, your lost Juliet must be already waiting for the fireworks.

ELIOTT

(slightly uncomfortable)

Idriss-

IDRISS

The _Dorian_ group, right? Sofiane said he would find us a good-

ELIOTT

(tapping on the hands on his shoulders)

I’ll be right there. Let me finish this first.

IDRISS

(noticing and nodding at Lucas)

Don’t take too long Eli. The show is almost starting. Or you will have to climb the balcony again.

And IDRISS walks away, a last pat on his friend’s head. There is an awkward silence between them, Eliott fidgeting with his fingers and Lucas... Lucas tries his best to look natural and unbothered, his teeth biting too hard on his lower lip though that almost draws blood. It is not that he is expecting Eliott to be single after all, the boy in front of him is tall, handsome, a weird sense of humor and afraid of ghosts, who wouldn’t like that. And from Lycée Dorian, his own school, the irony of it. Lucas stands up, turning to leave, when Eliott grabs his hand, the same he had done back then when they were queuing, grip firm and unwavering.

LUCAS

I should be-

ELIOTT

Let’s get away.

LUCAS

(surprised and turning to look at Eliott)

What?

ELIOTT

Like I promised you. We survived, Lucas.

LUCAS

But your friends and mine. We can’t just disappear without-

ELIOTT

We can. (He walks next to Lucas) Come. Don’t you want to escape from all this? Just you and me.

Eliott is close, too close, their arms almost touching just as their legs. He is almost intimidating with his tall stature and wild hair, timid but excited smile, and eyes. The stare battle is back and Lucas knows he has already lost this one when he sees himself reflected on Eliott’s irises, nothing else in the other boy’s world except for him and his hedgehog. Lucas nods, not knowing what to say, the lump on his throat pasting his vocal cords together.

The fireworks have already started by the time they lie on the grass field, dandelions and chamomile, surrounded by the trees of the inner forest of the park, the lake still in view and the lights of the carnival too, but it is a labyrinth to reach there and Lucas has no idea how to return back to civilization. They both lie side by side, chests heaving from the physical exertion, their turbulent and ragged breaths the only sounds besides the pyrotechnic explosions. The myriad of colors in the sky are moving constellations in diadem, serpentine and random patterns, a veil of flaming crimsons, neon greens, fluorescent blues, the whole spectrum of glittering confetti. Lucas extends his hands to the sky to see if he can catch any of the falling sparks, the half moon of his bracelet glimmering in the same iridescence.

ELIOTT

(imitating Lucas’ actions)

They are beautiful, aren’t they?

LUCAS

(in a teasing manner)

Are you not afraid of them?

ELIOTT

They are not dark.

LUCAS

(punching Eliott’s shoulder rather weakly)

They could be souls from evil stars.

ELIOTT

(pretending to be hurt but failing at it)

They can’t be. They’re flowers thrown by the heavens. Sometimes... (hesitating)... I can see them inviting me to help them when I close my eyes.

Lucas turns his head to Eliott, the taller boy sporting a serious expression on his face. He doesn’t know why but Eliott sounds so vulnerable that moment, a lost child who doesn’t know how to read his own home address or a fledging who had fallen from its nest and broken one of the wings. Innocent too, with a tinge of adulthood, just like his cologne of sea foam and lime, of freshly mown grass and cigarette smoke.

ELIOTT (CONT’D)

You know, Lucas... (blushing)... I actually lost the bet on purpose.

LUCAS

W-what? Why?

ELIOTT

Because, (his gaze falls on Lucas) I saw this boy who was shaking so much and almost crying for a trip to the haunted house. I couldn’t let him faint at the entrance.

LUCAS

(supporting himself by the elbows as he punches Eliott again)

I did not cry!

Eliott laughs, loud and unrestrained, the sound of his mirth complementing the symphony of the fair. Lucas lunges at Eliott, mercilessly tickling his chest, the sides and underarms, the laughter morphing from curses, _putain_ , into pleas to stop amidst tears of involuntary surrender. Lucas is forgiving, the victory smirk even more.

ELIOTT

(recovering his breath)

I have always wanted to watch the fireworks with you, Lucas.

LUCAS

(surprised)

Have we met before?

ELIOTT

_Maybe._

The sky is perhaps the less magnanimous of them all because the warning is lost in the night gusts as clouds gather at the speed of light and the first droplets of rain hit Lucas’ forehead. It soon pours, the water soaking their T-shirts and pants, their hair losing all the hefty volume. Lucas sits, ready to leave, when Eliott stops him by the second time of the day, the half-moons of the bracelets clinking as they connect their hands.

ELIOTT (CONT’D)

Wait. (He opens his mouth, tasting the rain) Let’s just stay a little longer. Please.

In this corner of the park, surrounded and protected by the crown of the trees, the rain is only theirs. In the middle of the night, Lucas lies back again. He too closes his eyes and he says nothing. The drenched clothes are heavy and cold but Eliott’s hand feels warm.

He never wants to let it go.


End file.
